Eating Disorder Poems | Examples

Control

Her soul was starved of acceptance 
An aching hunger wanting to be fed 
Her body weak
Not from the lack of food
But for the lack of love for her skin
Being black meant a life where no matter what she did
She would never win
She couldn't control her race 
But she could control her body
She wanted to be invisible 
And the only way she could make that happen was to disappear 

Her body, her skin, her mind
A place of imprisonment 
But she could control how she decorated it
To her that felt like a rebellion 
Even if it meant she lost herself 
Deep down she knew this wasn't right 
But she just didn't want the fight 
She was willing to make that sacrifice 

With every meal skipped 
She got weaker and weaker
Not realising how she was getting closer to death
Mistaking it for freedom

She had got everything she wanted 
Just not how she expected 
She realised a little too late
How true this statement was
The world wanted her gone
And she had finally given them what they want

The Release

We all know that feeling. The one that we don’t want to end. The one that’s so satisfying it’s intoxicating. It starts subtle. Sometimes, it involves thoughts. Thoughts you wouldn’t dare share with anyone. It grows through your entire body, screaming and scratching through every single nerve ending. It spreads slowly, burning down every narrow passage and every inch of your skin. Your entire body is on fire. You feel it growing and growing as you inch towards your finale. It bubbles up, boiling to the top until it overflows. It flows over the edge, violently and satisfyingly. It flows and flows, releasing every tension in your body. The release is the greatest feeling, toxic, infuriating, invigorating, and all so inviting, making you want to feel this feeling all over again… The Release.

The Plate

Not all of us ‘Eat, Pray, Love’.
One plate: a minefield
of coulda, woulda, shoulda,
of clink and clatter
long after a bite.
Taste lingers,
here!

My Body Is My Friend

I stare timidly into the softly lit mirror,
Its gaze staring back at me unrecognizable.
I've been told this person is my friend,
But its reflection paints a different picture.
Its mixture mixes a mess of colors I never thought go together anyway.
A bit ghostly.
I trace its outline carefully -
A bump here, a dent there, extra padding everywhere -
So pathetically unfamiliar to me.
So frightening
   to me....
    To me
       to me
         to me
           to me
Why does no one else seem to see
What I see?
   What I see...
I've been told is my friend.
But friendliness bodes forbidden,
Foreign between the eyes of those destined to be one.
When will I learn my body is my friend?
Who honestly teaches that anyway?
I say honestly purposefully.
   Lies, all lies.
You see it, don't you?
I don't even need to explain for you to know.
That's how low this show has gone.
I need help unmasking and redefining
this 
 festering, 
  fatal 
   phenomenon.

Colors

Colors

Blue the color of her eyes
That hid the pain 
The ones that ahead the tears 
When no one is near 
The ones that have the glow even
When the tears flow 

Red the color of her lips 
The ones that hold back the tips 
The tips that mad her once feel full
Now seeps through the tile floor 

Pink the color of the nails 
That scream I’m Fine as she stands
On the scale after her favorite meal
The nails that pick up her food
In her pantry that counts 
The calories and safely puts it back 

Till she screams in pain with 
Tears running down her face 
And blood gushing out 

Me the girl who acts like 
Loving herself comes easy 
But hates herself more everyday

growing pains

growing pains...

and so she grew,
because that’s what we all do.
she reminded herself that 
her body
is her vessel.
it does more than just
exist
for a compliment, 
for a boy,
for a mirror
or for a photo.
she told herself that her size,
and the tightness of her clothes
were not indicators of failure.
the fullness of her belly,
would never determine her worth
she found comfort in words like these.
yet she never,
not once
had to self assure
when her pants hung loose
or her stomach yearned for food,
when her waist curved inwards rather than out
not once,
not ever.

Chosen Fate

After deciding
To skip this one too,
Soon enough
Her face turned blue.
Thinking what damage,
Could a skipped meal do?
And if one won't,
Then so won't two.
So she sleeps on this one too.
What's a little bit of hunger?
Nothing new.

But she finds herself in one of her biggest fears,
The sound of a siren filling her ears,
Red and blue lights blinding her eyes.
Accompanied by her mother's cries.
Who is wandering back and forth,
Wondering how she couldn't have seen,
That what the news talked about,
Had caught her own teen.

But now it's too late.
To take back what she said about her weight.
To tell her to wear all the dressesshe made her hate.
Now it is far too late,
To change what her daughter-
Chose to be her fate.

On Healing

Sometimes healing is messy
It is a rollercoaster 
Ups and downs
Sometimes I can handle it
Other times I lose control
I say I am in recovery for my bulimia
But I still struggle
I still consider pushing myself that extra hour in the gym
I think skipping lunch that day won't hurt
I sometimes spend too much time looking at teeth enamel strengthening toothpaste and whitening strips
I only look at healthy snack like plain rice cakes and original sun chips
Carboard is not the most appealing flavor
But it is the safest one
I don't have to feel guilty when I eat them
I won't need to punish my body later
Some days though
I will eat the birthday cake and not worry about it later
I will still go to the gym but only spend 30 minute there not 2 hours
I brush my teeth not worrying about if i will cause any damage to them from a purge
Healing is messy
Somedays are easier than others
But I know that I am trying my hardest.

Eating Disorder

I don’t feel I have the words to describe an eating disorder 
It’s like having mean monsters always waiting around the corner
Once the seed is planted there is no going back
It starts off small with things like not wanting that snack

As the tree starts to grow it feeds the monsters more
The problem can’t be easily fixed as it’s at your core
You just want control over your life that’s all 
But when you are ill you need to break down that barrier wall 

There’s nothing wrong with being a bit overweight and that’s a fact 
No one should think less of you, you’re beautiful, never feel attacked 
Your brain never truly recovers even after the disorder stops 
It’s like how even after the storm there are still remaining raindrops

Food is good for your physical and mental health and it’s a form of self care 
Don’t listen to the media you can’t survive on just water and air 
Remember that the brain can be in a very dangerous state 
Take it slowly always know it doesn’t matter about your weight

Mommy I Don'T Want To Die

“Mommy, mommy!” I desperately scream at 4, longing for comfort in her welcoming arms. 
 We are watching a film about the circle of life. The movie showed the sheep at birth all the way to its final stages. Snot puffs out of my young nostrils like the smoke in grandma’s cigarette. My heart is racing in absolute panic as I bounce my knee up and down and shake uncontrollably. “I don’t want to die!” I shout in distress.
And 10 years later I am once again in my mother’s arms, yet all frail and bony like an ancient mummy in an Egyptian sarcophagus. I am laying on my brittle hospital bed with my exhausted eyes blinking even slower than a salted snail. I touch my nose and wince, as my feeding tube is 3 sizes too big. I can hear the whirring of the pump admitting into my stomach with nutrition I was convinced was unnecessary. And with strained breaths and my lips drier than the Sahara Desert, I make out the words “M..mommy?”
“Will you let me die?”

It’s crazy how times can change.

From the Parent of An Eating Disorder Sufferer

Don’t be afraid of words like thin and fat or slim and large, of discussing shame or diet or weight -
there is nothing wrong with learning and conversation, of mistakes and missteps and change.
Just know that food is neither good nor bad, it’s never a guilty pleasure or even a treat -
eat what your body needs, what makes you feel good. Ignore calories and traffic light labelling.
You will get better and yes, you may relapse, but the future is both wonderfully lighter and heavier
because your body is a living genius: treat it to music and bathing, to wine and incense burning.
I’ll talk to you from the shore, as if I wade into the water with you then we’ll both flounder -
but I’m sorry for getting angry, for asking how you could let this happen. Instead, I’ll listen.
You don’t weigh stones but rather laughter and singing, last year’s holiday and kisses from friends.
Your weight is that of a survivor, not a sufferer. And I know now, son, this also happens to boys.

Eating Disorder

The thought consumes me “Don’t eat” you’ll just get fat
All I want is for my stomach to be flat
Is that too much to ask?
So what if I don't want to eat? It just feels like a task
But I’m not one of those people who binge…
When I look into the mirror I cringe
I hate what I see
My reflection staring back at me
People say “you are already skinny”
I sit there and I cry
Im spoon fed lies
Screaming at myself “WHY” “WHY” “WHY”
                Why am I like this
I feel better with every meal I miss
Filled with pure bliss
As I watch the numbers on the scale drop
I know it's wrong but I just can't stop…

It's Ironic That It's Called the Throne

bowed before you once again
i’m worshipping you 
when i said i wouldn’t 

bent in half
i’m surrendering both my dinner 
and my fears

knelt down before you
my legs tremble 
my hands and chin drip

hunched over you
i am obedient
under your tyrannical rules 

there will be no revolution today

Anorexia

The scale starts to call and I cannot resist; constantly drawn to my biggest fear. 
The painful number that I see, never leaves my mind.
Every day. Every minute. Every second. She never stops - this voice inside my head. 
She speaks to me. She yells at me. So hurtful; the words that she says. 
I will never be who she wants me to be. 
"Don't eat that", she pleads. "Look in the mirror and you'll see." 
"You're fat!" "You're pathetic!" "You're a failure!", she screams.
She makes me cry, as I fall to my knees - tears falling down, I will never succeed. 
I'll never be good enough. She will never be pleased. 
Complete perfection is what Ana seeks. 
I am her slave, but she's good to me. 
She gives me strength, yet makes me weak. 
Ana tries to make me thin. She brings me hope. She's all I need. 
And even if I tried to break free...her disease has already taken hold of me.

The Harbour

regret holds me hostage and the ‘almost’ captivates me. 
i lose myself in a world of ‘what if’ 
and drown myself in a harbour of sadness; 
the only happiness i know is when my stomach is empty; the only pride i feel is a body with no food; 
no calories means i am clean and nobody wants dirty water;
i am the harbour of sadness, and i don’t want to ripple the velvet pain of depression.

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